These weeks mark the fiftieth anniversary of the dictator's death and the restoration of the monarchy in Spain. A significant sector of the state establishment has sought to transform this anniversary into an uncritical celebration of the monarchy, presenting it as the natural antithesis of the dictatorship and little more than the democratic unifying force of a supposedly exemplary Transition. But this interpretation is a historical falsehood. To ignore that the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy was precisely a decision made by the Franco regime itself to guarantee the continuity of its fundamental elements is an insult to democratic intelligence. And for this reason, today it is essential to speak plainly to avoid a new collective amnesia.
Post-Franco Spanish democracy was born marked by an anti-democratic anomaly: the imposition of a monarchy that was not subjected to any specific citizen validation and around which almost everyone closed ranks and remained silent, perhaps for fear of a greater evil. Hence the mythologizing of King Juan Carlos I, especially during the Transition itself, despite the more than significant shadows cast upon him. Despite being the successor designated by the dictator. A lack of legitimacy from the outset that still conditions the institution today.
Moreover, it lacks both legitimacy and democratic oversight. The Spanish monarchy has never truly been subject to any accountability. The lack of transparency and a certain structural subservience have allowed decades of opacity and scandals, especially during the omnipresent reign of the emeritus king, many of which remain unresolved. And they have, in turn, prevented any kind of consultation or collective questioning. It is important to remember a basic democratic fact: the youngest who were able to vote in the referendum ratifying the Constitution—and, therefore, indirectly, on whether they preferred the monarchy or the republic—are the generation that is now retiring.
The Spanish monarchy is taking advantage of the inertia to make, accumulating, a few seemingly pluralistic and diverse gestures to comply with what is currently politically correct. But it represents neither the pluralistic reality of Spain nor the diversity of the State. Quite the contrary: it is the symbol of a single, centralist, Castilian Spain that treats diversity not with condescension, but with unjustified forcefulness. We saw this with the speech of October 3rd.
But in Catalonia, we've known this for years. Catalonia, in fact, no longer had a king. The historical suffering inflicted by the Bourbons on the Catalan people is part of our collective memory. And those six shameful minutes of King Felipe VI's speech on October 3rd confirmed it once again. He could have given a speech befitting a head of state, attempting to reduce tensions, acknowledging the evident police violence against citizens who, on October 1st, simply wanted to vote, and perhaps even calling for dialogue and political action. But the exact opposite happened, or worse. The monarch opted for confrontation and for denying basic rights, making it clear—once again—that he was not the king of the Catalans.
That speech acted as an explicit endorsement, not only of the police violence of October 1st, but also of the repression. A sector of the high judiciary, already steeped in anti-Catalan sentiment, sought to fulfill the mandate of the rhetoric and initiated a repressive phase that has profoundly marked recent years: imprisonment, exile, judicial harassment, and suffering for hundreds of people who simply mobilized or carried out their institutional duties. A negotiation process had to be initiated to halt this spiral: securing pardons, negotiating the removal of the crime of sedition from the Penal Code, and finally, the approval of an amnesty law that has yet to be fully implemented.
And yet, that endorsement has never been rectified. There has been no gesture or word indicating the correction, nuance, or revision of that position. Even today, the most conservative core of the Supreme Court judges continues to resist applying the amnesty law, despite having the backing of the Constitutional Court and the recent opinion of the Advocate General before the Court of Justice of the European Union. Even now, the mandate of the October 3rd speech is being fulfilled.
The underlying conflict between Catalonia and the State remains unresolved. And, more than ever, it is necessary to delve deeper into the political negotiation process. But it is clear that the monarchy is not rowing in that direction. Catalonia has no king because it does not want one, because we do not want to be subjects of anyone. Because we do not believe in archaic structures anchored in a time that no longer exists. In fact, the CEO barometer confirms that more than seventy percent of Catalans would prefer a republic.
Catalonia has no king. It has citizens, institutions, and a democratic will that must be respected. The future of our country can only be built on freedom, memory, and a commitment to democracy. On the free, pluralistic, and modern society that we are. Knowing, at the same time, that only through dialogue, negotiation, and the exercise of democracy can this latent conflict be resolved. Catalonia wants to decide its future. And it wants to do so as mature societies do: by voting. By voting on everything.
